


Selfish Acts

by unmeiiii



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fade Dreams, Fade Romance, Fade Tongue, Moral Ambiguity, Romance, The Fade, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 15:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiiii/pseuds/unmeiiii
Summary: Post-Trespasser: An exhausted Inquisitor Lavellan drifts into sleep with thoughts of loved ones, and her troubled spirit wanders into an interesting dream.





	Selfish Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I present to you... another excerpt of the stories in my head of these two. The romance between these two characters are constantly on my mind, and this piece was a result of my obsessions. I tried my best to make Inquisitor Lavellan as relatable as possible to your own, though I got some details from my own Inquisitor. I hope that doesn't stray you from reading however. Please let me know what you think, I'd love some feedback from you! Thank you and enjoy.
> 
> Edit: I didn't realize that my notes in my document had transferred over to this piece! I've removed them. Sorry about that.

## Selfish Acts 

Although the Inquisition was over, there was a lot of tiring work that had to be done for Inquisitor Lavellan. 

It had been a couple of months after her declaration of the disbandment of the Inquisition. After speaking to ambassadors and liaisons all day (in which they were discussing their current pacts and contracts now that the Inquisition had formally disbanded), she was quite exhausted. The Inquisitor, or rather former Inquisitor, retreated to her room after a long day of meetings. As she ascended the steps, she felt her head grow heavy with exhaustion. She shuffled through documents that were placed on her desk by Cullen and Leliana before retiring into her bed. 

Her eyes rested on the balcony in front of her as her mind wandered elsewhere. She thought about the ones who stayed and those who left her organization. Her friends and colleagues. They all had different reactions to her decision of disbandment, some resistance and some acceptance, however all ended the same: gratefulness. 

The Inquisitor had always been focused on the two goals of the Inquisition: defeating Corypheus and restoring order from his chaos. That was the goal. Through the midst of it all, it was easy and quite tempting to fall into corruption for the sake of simple progress. It was not easy, making the “right” decisions even though half of Thedas agreed where the other didn’t. But the process was easier with her colleagues at her side: Cullen, Josephine and Leliana. The one thing from the ordeal that Inquisitor Lavellan prided herself in was that she didn’t let the Inquisition become a world power of corruption. It had a purpose, and it had been fulfilled. 

A lot of what happened influenced her decision to disband; however one of the biggest influences was the incident at the Winter Palace, with… Solas. 

The Inquisitor’s heart tightened when his face came to her mind, and there was a tingling in her upper left arm. Yes, she had to admit that his confession of the corruption in her organization is what caused some of the events that took place. She wished it were different circumstances, of course.

She did not forget what he had told her that time - his plans to tear down the Veil and the reckoning that is to come. She kept replaying his words over and over in her mind, trying to accept that the man before her was a God with a greater purpose. She did not know what was more unnerving: finding out that Solas, or Fen’Harel, was capable of doing such a thing, or the fact that a small part of her sympathized with his cause. 

The one thing that Inquisitor Lavellan prided herself in being above a mage and the Inquisitor was being an elf. That was her identity for the longest time before it shifted into the famed Herald of Andraste. Growing up in her Dalish camp, she was taught that their identity was all they had, and they needed to preserve it as much as they could. So of course, her whole life was dedicated to preserving the remnants of their great culture, however misguided it was. But when she was suddenly the Herald of a human god to countries that looked down upon her people? She was resistant. The audacity that humankind had to bestow a title derivative or a _human_ god, to serve their needs. 

But it occurred to the young Dalish elf that maybe, just maybe, with an elven woman leading a power that could help the world, this would bring more enlightenment to her People. It was possible people would think twice before mistreating the elves that only wanted peace to begin with. 

So yes, she did understand Solas’ beliefs and his goal, somewhat. Elves were now treated with such hatred and disdain it made her sick, as it did him. (along with the fact he claimed that the People were ignorant of the true ways) She recalls conversations that would involve a heated Solas on the topic of the elves’ mistreatment in their society, how he solemnly shook his head at alienages and Dalish camps alike. But their philosophies of change were completely different. 

Whereas he wanted to erase and start over, she wanted to change and teach. 

As she thought about her People, her home came to her mind and the memories pained her. She doesn’t go a day without thinking of Clan Lavellan and what happened to them. The Inquisitor remembers when she first received the report, her heart fell and her knees had buckled slightly. Leliana said condolences that were unclear at the time and left her alone at the War Table to gather herself. And throughout the war with Corypheus, she shoved her grief down and further down so she could be a war leader first, not a grieving girl. Because that’s what Thedas needed.

Now that the Inquisition was disbanded and she had time to process her feelings somewhat, she found herself not crying uncontrollably nor committing rash acts out of denial. It was anger. Anger that human ignorance once again mistreated her People, blamed her People for something they did not do. A deep seated, hot rage that burned in her chest. And that brings her to the question that kept haunting her mind: what was the point? What was the point in saving the world when her people were still being mistreated and killed and raped and pillaged? 

After some time of recollecting events of the past and sorting through her thoughts and emotions, the Inquisitor’s eyelids began to grow heavy. The heavy sensation overcame her and she slipped into a deep sleep, an escape from her mind. However, her mind and spirit managed to wander far beyond the physical limitations of reality and into the breaches of the Fade. 

Because the Inquisitor had her family in her final thoughts before drifting to sleep, her surroundings materialized into that of the Free Marches. Maroon tents dotted the riverbank and ended into a crook of a mountainside, where they had the hearth. She spotted the halla that were kept in a small gated area beside the river, and women tending to them. In the distance, the Inquisitor also saw her Keeper and mentor, Deshanna, talking to some of the hunters about being wary of not straying too far from the perimeters of the camp. With a few farewells, the hunters departed. Deshanna set eyes on her and approached her with a soft smile. 

“What is it, da’len? Why do you look as the humans do when they approach us?” She remembered how kind the Keeper’s eyes were, soft and full of understanding. 

“I… I don’t think I’m actually here right now.” The Inquisitor replied, confused but not questioning it. She was pleased to see Deshanna again, even in a dream. Her face was wrinkled but still she was as beautiful as what she remembered her to be as a child. Long dark brown hair braided down her back, now graying at the roots. Deep red keeper robes that adorned her small frame, and the vallaslin of Mythal on her prominent cheekbones. The Inquisitor admired her appearance as well as her character, however. She held herself with grace and the assertiveness of a leader. 

Keeper Deshanna laughed. “If you weren’t, then how is it I see you? Enough of this. We have to begin your lessons for the day.” 

Their camp had been temporarily moved alongside a flowing river because of growing tensions between them and a neighboring village, the Inquisitor recalled as they walked. This was in a lot safer area, and they had liked being close to water despite wandering human hunters in the parts. Keeper Deshanna guided her to the river bank, and sat on a rock beside some of the clan member’s fishermen. 

“Go fill your waterskin with water and come back to me.” 

The Inquisitor remembers these words, and the environment. The smell of the pine trees, the soft hum of the river, and the occasional laughter that would erupt from the fishermen nearby. She was physically repeating one of her favorite memories and everything was right, but something felt off. Wrong. The air felt different, Everything was as she remembered but there was a sinister presence underneath this memory and she felt it. 

However, her body began to move on her own and words protruded from her mouth unwillingly, 

“Again with this test, Deshanna? Why must you underestimate me so?” 

She walked over to the river and a glimpse in the water startled her - her face was younger, and her hair was past her shoulders. Her face had just received the vallaslin of Elgar'nan, as her skin was red around the lines. She must’ve been just turned 18 at this point, the Inquisitor guessed as she filled the waterskin with water. As she did so, she saw something in the corner of her eye afar from the camp, a looming presence it felt like. When she turned her head to look, there was nothing but the bank and trees in the distance. 

She approached the Keeper and sat on the opposite rock in front of her. 

“Now do what you did last time.” 

She looked down at her waterskin and reenacted her memory. Tipping the waterskin over ever so slightly, a drop trickled out and began to fall in mid-air. Before it could hit the ground, with a flick of her wrist she froze the droplet then shaped it in a small pick - with another gesture of her hand, she shot it straight into a tree trunk. 

Keeper Deshanna nodded approvingly. “You have improved a lot since a few years ago, da’len. You’ve proven to be a fine magic wielder.” 

The Inquisitor’s mouth moved on its own once again, “But why do we do this so often, Deshanna? It’s simple to shape and throw things.” 

The Keeper’s expression changed to a more solemn one. “This may seem like a silly test, however it’s to test not only your skill but the way of a battlefield. Every action that occurs, miscalculated or not, happens fast when you are fighting for your life. You as a mage have to take every small calculation and make it your advantage.” 

The Inquisitor remembers that this was the first real lesson that resonated with her for the rest of her life. She had requested once she got her vallaslin that her lessons become more battle-based and serious, whereas before it was simple lessons of manifestation and control and appliance.

As she was looking at Keeper Deshanna, she felt it again. That looming presence, the eyes on her back, a shift in the air. Her eyes darted all around her, now on full alert of this presence in her memory. 

“What is it child?”

“You are not real. This is all a manipulation of my mind.” 

Deshanna’s face began to distort and crack, pieces of her falling to the ground and disintegrating into thin air. The landscape also began to shatter like glass into green shards and then into nothing. She was left with just the eerie fog of the Fade, and beaming shards of green crystal that were in the distance. 

The Inquisitor conjured a ball of fire to her right palm and called aloud,

“I see through your ruse, demon. You have no power over me.” 

Silence, at first. She kept circling and peering through the fog, until a figure began to materialize in front of her and walk towards her. She saw the familiar face and the regalia worn on the day her world ended. Her heart fell. 

“It was not meant to be a ruse, vhenan, but a comfort.” 

Solas. 

She had not seen him since that day, that day where he told her that his day of reckoning would soon come. But that was not on the Inquisitor’s mind. All she thought about as she looked at him was the way her heart pained in her chest, and how sad his eyes looked when he looked at her. His wolf regalia that he wore proudly now. Fen’Harel. 

She couldn’t find the words to say until he started to speak again. 

“I felt your pain, even so far away from this place. You yearn for your family, for your identity. Your home. I thought I might provide a memory for you as you slept, as I watched from the shadows. I’ve become selfish in that I wanted to see you at peace for my sake.” 

Finally, she found her voice, however it wavered. “How can you want that when you plan to destroy this world anyway? Why does my peace matter to you?” She meant to put more ice and bitterness into the question, but it was heartbreakingly hoarse. 

“I told you, I’m not a monster. If I had a choice…” 

“You _do_ have a choice! You’ve given up on us, Solas. On me. You want to eradicate everything and start over without giving the world a chance. How is that fair?”

“It’s not.” 

His response confused her. He acted as if this was something he had to do, like he had no choice. But there was always a choice, she thought.

“You’re right. You are selfish. To want to eradicate everything and still desire my peace of mind. You are selfish and a traitor. And even so, I…” She couldn’t finish her thought, because if she spoke it aloud, she’d be a traitor as well. A traitor to her People, Thedas, and worst of all: a traitor to herself.

She _loved_ him. 

After everything, she couldn’t bring herself to hate the man before her. She tried to remind herself that he was a deceiver, a manipulator, a parallel of the enemy she had just destroyed. The one thing that was not feigned, however, was his love for her, and hers for him. And this fact made the Inquisitor hate herself more than anything.

A brief silence transpired between the two until the Forgotten God stepped forward and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She flinched against his touch at first, and his hand hovered hesitantly millimeters away from her cheek. She should’ve slapped his hand away, and woken up from this, but she did none of those things. She closed her eyes to hide the stinging tears that were about to emerge from them. With her right hand, she pressed his hand against her skin as rivulets of her tears streaked her cheeks.

The alleged Herald of Andraste, weakened by the Dread Wolf. Fate was cruel. 

Suddenly, she felt his warm lips press against hers and her mind was muddled. Everything she believed in was tossed aside for the sake of his hot mouth and the hands on her sides and his body pressed against hers. Desperate, passionate kisses on her lips, her throat and collarbone, her body was on fire. She pulled his hips towards her to remove any space between them. A part of her screamed in her mind. What was she doing? This was her enemy, the traitor who used her and her friends; this was the man who wanted to destroy everything she loved. But as the friction between their bodies grew hotter, these thoughts faded away.

She felt suffocated under the flames of passion but didn’t dare to break away from his mouth. There was nothing but she and her Wolf, entangled in each other’s bodies and spirits. Solas guided her backwards and the environment around them was transforming again: trees sprouting from the ground, the hissing waves of the sea lapping at the rocks, and they fell into a tent on the seashore. 

Sweet nothings and gasps and moans were exchanged between them until finally, heavy breathing and a peaceful lapse of silence.

In this tranquility, they held each other. The Inquisitor’s head rested on his chest, and his fingers toyed with strands of her hair. Through the flaps of the tent she gazed into the now calm sea, watching the gentle waves. The seagulls’ calls, the sounds of the sea and Solas’ slow heartbeat relaxed her. It was the first time in quite a long time she’s felt at peace. 

She now began to speak, a small smile on her lips. “This wasn’t just another selfish act of you wanting me to be at peace, is it?” 

Solas chuckled. “No. This was a… different selfishness.” 

She shifted against him more, but more so that her face was in the crook of his neck,

“Know this. I will save you, Solas. I will do everything in my power to change your mind, and to save you. I will fight for you and this world.”

“I want that more than anything, vhenan.” 

He cupped her chin and looked at her lovingly, except also with a tinge of that same sadness from before. He pressed his lips against hers once again, this time with a different emotion. One of finality, a parting kiss, along with a command from the Wolf: 

“You must awaken now.”


End file.
